Alyson Winchester: Sick
by WaywardDaughter18
Summary: John is home when Aly is sick and tries to repair their relationship while caring for her. It doesn't quite work. Takes place before the story 'Aly Sneaks Out', but that story does not have to be read to enjoy this one. Same AU as 'The Adventures of Alyson Winchester'. Content Warning: Description of vomiting. Contains spanking; If You Don't Like It, Don't Read.


SUMMARY: John is home when Aly is sick and tries to repair their relationship while caring for her. It doesn't quite work. Takes place before the story 'Aly Sneaks Out', but that story does not have to be read to enjoy this one. Same AU as 'The Adventures of Alyson Winchester'.

CONTENT WARNING: Description of vomiting. Contains spanking; If You Don't Like It, Don't Read.

Aly: age 13, Sam: age 21, Dean: age 25

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello Dear Readers! If this is your first time reading one of my stories, please check out my profile for more stories with Alyson Winchester. The main story is called The Adventures of Alyson Winchester, and there are several short stories about Aly at different ages. I hope you enjoy them, and if you do, please leave me a review!**

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The phone rang once, twice, three times, and then on the fourth ring it was picked up.

"Yeah, Aly?" Dean said, chewing. He was probably eating popcorn; he and Sam were having a movie marathon while I was sleeping over at a friend's house.

"Hi Dean." I said. "Um, can you come pick me up?"

"Sure, everything okay?" His tone was no-nonsense and I knew that he was instantly concerned. I wouldn't call and ask to be picked up unless something was wrong.

"Yeah, it's just, Elle got sick and threw up at the dance, so her mom came and got her and cancelled the sleepover."

"Eugh!" Dean said. "Sure kiddo, are you still at the dance? We need to go get your stuff?"

"No, her mom already picked her up and she brought our bags."

"All right. I'll be there ASAP. Oh, uh, where do I go?"

"You know the bus loop at the back of the school? They're not doing pickup at the curb, you have to come inside and get me."

"On my way." he said, and hung up.

I waited by the door of the gym until I saw Dean walking in. He came into the gym and the vice principal, Mr. Wooten, saw him and smiled. "Hello, sir, Mr. Winchester." he said, shaking Dean's hand.

"Oh, no, I'm not sir or Mr. Winchester, that's my dad." Dean said, smiling.

He looked at me "Ready?" He took my backpack out of my hand as we walked.

"Good bye, Alyson." Mr. Wooten called.

"Bye Mr. Wooten."

He knows who I am because I was in the Spelling Bee and I made it to the County level, got my name and picture in the papers and everything.

As Dean pulled out of the lot, he said, "Dad just got home."

"Oh." I said, not sure how to feel.

"Don't sound so excited!" He said sarcastically.

I looked out the window. For the past couple of years, Dad and I had had an uneasy relationship. I wasn't a compliant little kid any more. Now that I was a little older I was trying to convince all three of them that I could manage on my own for a weekend so I didn't have to be schlepped around to other people's houses any more.

Sam looked up from the sofa as we came into the living room.

"Hey, Aly, sorry to hear the sleepover got canceled." he said.

"Well, puke happens." I joked.

Dad walked into the living room. "And where were you?" He asked lightly, and I could tell he was trying to make a joke.

"At a school dance." I said stiffly.

Dad came over to me and took my chin in his hand. " _What_ is on your _face?"_

I felt embarassed. "Makeup. Elle put too much on." I said defensively.

"Yeah, she did." Dad retorted. He looked down at my outfit- a tight blouse that bared my midriff a little bit and an ultra-short miniskirt. "What- Dean, did you _seriously_ allow her to wear this out of the house?" he said loudly.

I looked over at Dean, who had a surprised look on his face.

"He didn't 'let me'." I said. "Elle lent me some clothes." I said.

"So, you're allowing her to go over to some girl's house where she's putting on makeup and wearing these- 'clothes'- without you knowing about it- what else is going on? What else were you doing?" Dad looked at me closely, his eyes suspicious.

"Nothing, Dad, geez!" I said defensively.

"Dad, its all right, I met the girl's parents. They're okay." Dean told him.

"And _you 've_ made the decision that Alyson is old enough to wear makeup and go to a dance on her own?" Dad raised an eyebrow and gave Dean a look.

"Well, I didn't know about the makeup, but-"

"Dad, it's not a big deal." Sam interjected from the couch.

Dad rounded on him. "Excuse me? She's too young to be wearing makeup and dressing like a- like—this!" he gestured at me. He turned back to me. "Go wash your face off and get changed out of that—outfit."

I started to walk out of the room.

"And Alyson- no more mini-skirts." Dad said sternly.

"Yes sir." I mumbled, my face flaming with embarrassement. As I went into the bathroom I could hear their voices raised. They were arguing, about me probably. Great. Now Dad was going to be pissy, and Dean might be pissy, and even Sam might be pissy too. Hopefully it wouldn't be directed at me. We had never talked about anything like wearing makeup or types of clothing; I knew my brothers were kind of embarrassed about talking about it, so nobody said anything. I hadn't really become interested until recently anyway, I had always dressed in comfortable clothes and never styled my hair or done anything remotely 'girly'.

I was a little nervous that I was going to end up getting swatted, so I changed into fleece pajamas. They were a little thicker than my normal pjs and would hopefully provide a little bit more of a barrier from the hard hand of a Winchester.

I could hear them talking in the kitchen, so I went in. Dad was leaning against the counter with a glass of whiskey in his hand. He put it on the counter and held out his arms.

"Come here." he said to me, and I went to him and let him hug me.

I felt his hand on top of my head. He looked down at me. "I think you've gotten a little taller." he said.

He let go of me and I stepped back. He put his hand up and touched my cheek with his fingertip.

"Much better." he said. "You don't need all that stuff all over your face, covering up your natural beauty." he said softly.

I felt myself start blushing again. He was just saying that to make up for being mean before.

"Well, so what if I want to wear makeup?" I said, and it came out snarkier than I meant it to.

He blinked at my tone of voice. "Young lady, this is the type of thing we need to have a discussion about before you do it."

"What do you mean, a discussion? Don't you mean, you tell me no, I can't because I'm too young or whatever? I'm not a kid anymore you know!"

"Aly-" Dean said in a warning tone. He meant 'don't engage Dad.'

Dad sighed. "You know, I _just_ got home from a long hunt, I'm tired and achy and my bones hurt. I wanted to see my kids and relax, and instead I come home to _teenage attitude."_

"Well _excuse me_ for being a teenager!" I snapped, tears coming to my eyes. I turned and started to leave the room.

"Don't you walk away from me! Young lady, get back here!"

Dad caught up with me in the living room, and grabbed my arm. "You're _not_ going to start with with the attitude and the disobedience again, I'm _not_ going to put up with it. It stops _now."_ And he laid three hard swats on my butt. Yeah, fleece pajamas don't do anything to guard against the sting from the hand of John Winchester.

I turned towards him. "Okay Dad, what do you want to say? I'll stand here and listen while you yell at me. Is that what you want? 'Cause that seems to be all that you do these days. We didn't talk when I came in, you yelled at me and scolded me, and you haven't stopped!"

Something in his face changed, and he dropped his eyes. Then he sighed heavily.

"You're right, Aly." he said, not meeting my eyes. "I'm sorry." He looked at me then. "Would you like to sit and talk?"

"About what? I have nothing to say." I crossed my arms.

He looked at me and his face almost looked pleading. "Aly-"

"Can I go to my room?"' I asked. "Sir?"

He closed his eyes and sighed again. "Yes." He said in a defeated tone. I turned and went to my room.

A couple minutes later there was a soft knock on my door. Sam came in and sat on the end of my bed.

"I never thought I'd say this, but give him a break, Aly." Sam said to me. "He goes away and comes back and you're changing into a beautiful young woman before his eyes and he doesn't know how to handle it."

"Not my problem." I said.

Sam leaned his elbows on his knees and studied me.

"How come you and Dean can handle it?" I asked him. "How come _you're_ not on me about it?"

He chuckled. "Well, we _do_ get on you about stuff. Like texting and your cell phone and your homework. And we're with you every day so we don't see the little changes that are happening."

"He can't put that on me." I said. "He needs to learn how to deal with it on his own."

"Well, that's my point, Aly. Be a little gentle right now, he's just now realizing how different things are and that he's going to need to change."

I scoffed. "The day Dad changes is the day that- that- I don't know, pigs fly!"

"He's changed before, Aly, he can do it again." Sam said. "Give him a chance, okay? Just a small chance? Try to rein in the snark and the attitude a little, huh?"

I sighed. "Okay, I'll do it for you, Sammy." I said.

"Good. You want to come out and sit with us?"

"No." I said.

"Hey!" he said, and he reached out and grabbed my ankle. He pulled my foot towards him and started tickling me and I started laughing despite myself.

"Okay, okay I will!" I gasped. "What are you watching?"

"Terminator." he said. "Can't remember if we're on 2 or 3."

"Oh joy!" I said sarcastically.

"You don't have to watch it, talk to Dad." he said.

I followed Sam out to the living room and sat between him and Dad on the sofa. I crossed my arms and focused on the tv for a couple minutes, then I felt a hand on my shoulder.

Dad had put his arm around me and was pulling me to him. "Will you sit with me?" he asked quietly.

I glanced up at him and he looked so uncertain I felt bad for him.

"Sure." I said, and I leaned towards him a little bit and pulled my legs up. He put his arm around me and I moved in closer to him, and leaned my head on his chest.

"That's better." he murmured. I felt his hand in my hair, stroking it like he used to do when I was little. Suddenly I felt like crying.

I woke up in the middle of the night, my stomach hurting. It felt like there was something standing on me, pressing down, and as I turned over, my stomach did a slow flip, and then I knew what was coming-

I got out of bed and tore down the hall and into the bathroom, pushing the door back so hard it slammed into the wall. I fell to my knees and slammed the toilet seat up as a wave of nausea crept from the pit of my stomach up to my throat-

and then the contents of my stomach emptied into the toilet. Every last bit of food and liquid and then some.

Someone touched my upper back and I jumped, startled, and turned my head.

"Alyson." It was Dad, hovering over me, with a worried look on his face. Dean stood in the doorway.

"I'm- I'm okay." I rasped.

"No you're not." Dad said, and he gathered my hair over my shoulders and held it behind my head. He was right, and I leaned over again as more came up. I felt his other hand on my shoulder, rubbing, and I said, "Don't touch me!"

He moved his hand away.

"Aly-" I heard Dean say, and then Sam's voice in the hallway, asking, "Is she okay?"

"Don't think so, Sammy, if she's in here hugging the porcelain throne." Dean said.

"I guess you got whatever your friend has, huh kiddo?" he asked me.

I wiped my streaming eyes with my hand.

"Please, guys." I said. "This is embarrassing." I said.

"What?" Dean asked, confused.

"I don't like- don't like-" and then I groaned as my stomach twisted and sent yet another round of liquid up my throat.

I heard Dad talking to Dean, and then he started weaving his fingers through my hair. I felt him dividing it into three strands.

"What're you doing?" I mumbled.

"Braiding your hair to keep it out of the way." he said.

"Since when do you know how to braid?" I asked.

"Don't you remember, I used to braid your hair when you were in your Dorothy phase?"

"Dorothy phase?" I asked, wiping my mouth with a shaking hand.

"Yes, you watched Wizard of Oz and wanted braids like Dorothy all the time. I think you were 4 or 5, it was after your ballerina phase."

"I...kinda remember now." I said. I had been so proud to go to school every day with braids, and Dad had always made the time to braid my hair, even when the mornings were busy.

"I used to braid your mother's hair too, when she had morning sickness. She was really sick when she was pregnant with you, so I would braid her hair every day to keep it out of the way. She didn't like being touched when she was throwing up either."

"Oh." I said. The thought that I was like my mother in some ways made me feel sad and tears came to my eyes.

"Here." Dean said. Dad leaned over and I felt him fiddling with my hair again. "I told Dean to get a hair elastic from your dresser, if that's okay." he said.

"Fine." I said, and then my stomach started again. This time it was only dry heaves.

When it stopped I slumped down onto the floor.

"You think you're done?" Dad asked.

"Yeah." I said. "I think so."

Dad filled a glass that was on the side of the sink and then helped me stand up. He handed me the glass and said, "Rinse and spit a couple times."

I leaned over the sink and did so, and he flushed the toilet and then gave me some toilet paper to wipe my mouth off with. He followed me into my room. There was a bucket on the floor next to my bed, and a roll of paper towels and a glass of ice water on the bedside table.

"Thanks for getting this stuff, Dean." Dad said.

I got into bed and he leaned over and pulled the covers up. Sam and Dean had come into the room too and all three of them were standing there looking at me.

"You guys can go back to bed." I told them. "I'll be okay."

"Feel better, Aly," Sam said.

"Call us if you need anything." Dean said, and they both left.

Dad sat down on the edge of the bed.

"What are you doing, go back to bed." I muttered.

He laid the back of his hand on my forehead. "You're sick, and you're running a fever." he said. "I'm not going anywhere. You rest, and I'll be right here."

I woke up just as hot liquid was coming up my throat, and I sat up and opened my mouth-

"Oh, God," I moaned after I finished heaving.

Then Dad was next to me, and he held the bucket in front of me.

"I-I threw up all down my front-" I said.

"It's all right." he soothed.

I leaned forward as my stomach heaved again and more came up. My throat was burning. He set the bucket on my lap and turned away for a moment, then when he turned back to me he had a paper towel in his hand. He gave it to me and I wiped my mouth off.

We sat quietly for a couple of minutes.

"I think I'm done." I mumbled.

Dad handed me the glass of water. "Rinse your mouth." he said.

I rinsed my mouth out and spit it into the bucket. He took the bucket and moved it onto the floor, then took my hands.

"Come on, stand up so I can change the sheets." he said. I had thrown up on the blanket and sheet as well as my pajamas. I stood next to the bed as he stripped it and piled the dirty sheets on the floor next to the door. He walked over to my dresser and got one of Sam's giant t- shirts out of the top drawer, then came over to me. "Take your pants off." he said, and I stepped out of them and handed them to him. He put them on the pile of dirty sheets, then he rolled the hem of my shirt up and pulled my top off, making sure that the part that had vomit on it didn't touch me. He slipped the t-shirt over my head and then pushed me to sit in the camp chair that he had brought in.

"I'll be right back," he said. He picked up the dirty stuff and left.

In a few minutes he was back with a stack of bedding, and he efficiently made the bed up with military corners. Then he took my hands again to pull me up.

"Back in bed." he said. "Do you think you could drink some water?"

I nodded, and he held the glass up to my mouth. I took it from him and drank several gulps. The cold water felt good on my burning throat. I handed him the glass and laid down, and he pulled the covers up. After I closed my eyes, I heard him pick up the bucket and leave the room.

I woke up once more during the night to throw up, and he was right there with the bucket. Fortunately I didn't throw up all over myself again. He took the bucket away and cleaned it out again, and I was asleep before he came back.

I woke up in the morning to Dad sitting next to the bed in the camp chair, looking at his lap top. There was a large mug of coffee on the bedside table- I could smell it. Dad always made it strong and took it black. He had said that that's how he learned to drink it when he was in the military, because they often didn't have cream or sugar to add to it, and he'd gotten used it. He looked down on all the "frou frou" coffee drinks with all the flavorings and added stuff.

He glanced over at me when I rolled over and saw I was awake. He leaned over and set his lap top on the floor, and got up to come over to me. He sat down on the edge of the bed and put his hand on my forehead again.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Like a truck ran over me." I said. "My back hurts."

"Yeah, sometimes that happens after you throw up, your muscles get sore. How's your stomach now?"

"Just feels empty."

"I sent Dean out to get some food. You should be drinking more so that you don't get dehydrated."

"You don't have to stay here with me." I said.

"Well, you're sick, and you're throwing up a lot. I'm concerned about you." He leaned over and picked up the glass of water from the bedside table and handed it to me.

"Drink some more." he told me. I propped myself up on my elbow and finished the water. Then I handed him the glass and flopped back onto the bed. He got up and said, "I'll get some more water." and left the room.

When he came back in, he was talking on his phone. "-should be able to help." he was saying. "Yeah, next time then. Bye." he hung up and put the phone in his pocket.

"Do you have another case?" I asked.

He sat down on the edge of the bed again. "No, I'm staying, so that I can take care of you." He smiled at me.

"I'm okay, you don't need to do that." I said, feeling uncomfortable.

"Drink," he held the glass up and I propped myself up on my elbow again. I took it from him and drank half of the glass.

"No, I don't need to stay, but I want to." he said. "You're sick, and I want to be here to take care of you." He smoothed my hair back from my face. I felt uncomfortable, not used to the attention from him.

"I know I haven't always been there for you, and...I want to try and change that." he said, looking a little uneasy. Our relationship had changed a couple of years ago when he started leaving me with various people over the summer, while he and my brothers went on hunts. I got angry at being left, I acted out, and I got punished when they returned. John Winchester wasn't one to sit down and talk about feelings or reasons why someone was behaving the way they were, for him it was all about obeying orders and being respectful. I did neither of those things for a long time, and my butt, and eventually our relationship, paid the price.

"It's okay, I'm fine." I mumbled. "I mean I'm used to it."

I glanced up at him and was startled to see what looked like tears in his eyes.

"Well, I don't like that." he said. "That you're used to me not being there for you, I mean." He looked down at his hands. I had no idea where this was coming from or why he was being this way with me.

He looked up at me. "I need to talk to you about something." he said seriously. "Something important about the past."

"Ooh-kay?" I said uncertainly. What the heck could that mean?

Just then Dean came to the door. "Hey Dad, need to talk to you for a minute."

Dad turned to him. "Hold on, Dean."

"Well, uh, Bobby's on the phone, and he said that there's been signs all over Nebraska for the past week...he said you told him to call if it was happening again...well, it is."

Dad turned to look at me, and then back at Dean.

"Sweetheart, I've got to talk to Bobby." he said apologetically. "I'll be back in a couple of minutes, and we can continue our talk, okay?"

"Sure Dad." I said. He got up and left the room.

I laid back down, and started to doze.

I woke up when someone touched my face. Dean was standing by my bedside.

"Hey, short stuff, we gotta go."

I sat up, feeling like my brain was fuzzy with sleep. "Huh? Who? Go where?"

"Dad and I. We've gotta go, there's a case." He leaned down and kissed the top of my head. "We'll be back as soon as we can. Try not to puke too much, huh?"

I got out of bed and followed him out to the living room, anger clearing my head. Dad was leaning over the sofa, zipping up a duffle bag.

"So much for changing." I said in a hard voice.

Dad straightened up and turned to me. "What?" he said, and then he realized what I was referring to. Something in his face changed. "This is important." he said. "I can't explain it to you right now, I don't have time."

"You never have time." I snapped, folding my arms on my chest.

"Aly," Dean said.

"Shut up, Dean!" I turned on him. "I can talk to Dad if I want."

"Don't you tell your brother to shut up!" Dad said angrily.

"What do you care? You're barely home any more anyway. Why the hell do you even bother coming home?"

"Alyson." Dad said in a hard voice.

"It's not like you're even here when you are here, I mean your body is here but your mind is 10 thousand miles away, and the only thing you care about is the stupid hunt-"

" _Alyson."_ Dad's voice got louder. There was a warning in his tone now.

"Why is getting rid of all these supernatural creatures more important than your own kids anyway? Why'd you even bother having us?"

"YOU WILL NOT TALK TO ME LIKE THIS!" he yelled, stepping towards me, his eyes angry and intense.

"Aly!" Sam said.

"Why did you even bother picking me up from Uncle Bobby's or Pastor Jim's or Ellen's? Why not just leave me with one of them for good?"

"Because you are my daughter," Dad interrupted me. "And you belong with me."

I scoffed. "I don't belong anywhere!" I said. "You tried training me to be a hunter and when I failed at that you decided not to care about me, and now I'm too weird to fit in with regular kids."

"I did not _decide_ not to care about you, young lady! Don't try to tell me what's in my own mind, because _you don't know!"_

"Aly, I felt-" Sam started, and I turned on him as well.

"Shut up, Sam!"

Dad took another step towards me. "I told you not to talk to your brother like that!"

"Aly, I just want to explain something-" Sam said.

"Oh, _screw_ your explanations, Sam!" I exclaimed. "Screw you trying to smooth everything over all the time-"

"ALYSON ELISABETH!" Dad yelled.

I spun to face him. "AND SCREW _YOU!"_ I yelled back at him. We stared at each other for a long moment, and then I stormed out of the room into my bedroom.

Dad was hot on my heels, slamming the door back into the wall as he walked in behind me.

"Oh no, young lady, you will _not_ talk to me like that!" he gritted out. He grabbed my arm and pushed me face down on the edge of my bed, and pushed the hem of my t-shirt up onto my lower back. He yanked my underpants down and put his hand on my back, holding me down on the bed, and his other hand began to fall on my butt, hard, heavy swats.

"I should be taking my belt to you for speaking to me like that, but I don't have time." he growled.

I struggled, but there was no way I could get out from under Dad's hand pinning me down. The man was strong, even stronger than Sam who had three inches on him. The swats rained down and I shrieked and burst into tears, tightly clutching the blanket underneath me.

"You will NOT talk to me like that EVER AGAIN, _DO YOU HEAR ME?"_ he yelled.

"Yes!" I sobbed out. "Yes, Dad, I'm sorry!"

He laid a few more smacks down on the lower part of my butt and I yelped. Then he pulled my panties up and the hem of my shirt down.

"I didn't want to have to punish you right before I leave on a case." he grumbled. "I don't like leaving like this."

I got up and turned around, my chest still heaving. He pulled me into his arms and I stood there stiffly. I still felt a little bit angry, and now I felt sad as well.

He looked down at me. "Come on, give me a hug." he said.

Grudgingly, I put my arms around him, and then I was enveloped in one of his patented John Winchester bear hugs where my face was smashed into his flannel for a few seconds and I couldn't breathe.

He let me go. "We'll talk when I get back," he said gruffly. "Behave for Sam. Make sure you stay hydrated."

"Yes sir." I said, feeling a lump in my throat. I followed him out to the living room. Dean came over and gave me a tight hug, and dropped another kiss on my head. "Be good," he said. "Hope you get better soon."

"Thanks," I said, watching as they shouldered their duffles. Dad got his keys and turned to Dean.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Yep." Dean answered, and they walked out the door.

Dad never did finish his talk with me or tell me what he had been going to say, and we never talked like that again.


End file.
